Pleasant Things

i. The Last Feather

i. the last feather

"Sorry,", I managed to let the word escape my thoughts and out my mouth, "I didn't mean to.". My father stared down at me, his tall shadow exceeded over my short, small one. His glasses gleamed from the sun that was peaking through the window, listening to our conversation.

I wanted to turn my head from his frown but, if I did I knew it would upset him more. I played with my fingers behind my back, trying to keep my thoughts from going overboard. My toes wiggled in the tea that reached my feet, the stream continued to grow past me and crept up under the door. It carried small pieces of porcelain with it and I was careful not to get close to the crime scene.

My eye wandered to the shattered tea cup on the ground that had slipped from my fingers moments ago. My cordovan hair wasn't enough to hide my frighten face, I knew because my father's eyes softened and  he bended down to meet me at my level.

"Ariella,", he picked up one of the larger pieces of the tea cup and held it in his hand. The shard was imprinted with a soft pink rose that was one of mother's favorites. I wondered how she would have reacted. "how can you use this tea cup when I told you never to touch them?"

"I'm sorry. It's just  that...", I paused for a moment and searched for a reason, for I wouldn't dare tell him the truth. "It looked pretty and I wanted to touch the last thing mother held."

He looked at me and grabbed my shoulders.

"You are the last thing she held."

With that, my father sighed and gazed at the mess I made. An accident, that was what I called it. The wind simply blew in through the window, the curtains had gotten in my way as I walked to the kitchen table. I felt a stabbing pain in my finger for a half a second and my body cringed without any permission from my brain. The man who was once picking up the pieces of porcelain was now looking over me with the eyes of a hawk.

"What happened?" 

His eyes searched for the source of the pain but, my hands hid behind my back, afraid of what he might do. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and focused on my bleeding finger. I waited for him to do something but instead he dropped my arm and stood up to go to the cabinets in the bathroom. I heard a few noises like the sink running and the sound of a door shutting. My father came back and picked up my finger, wiping the blood with a fragment of  wet towel paper.

"I'm fine." I whimpered when he took out tweezers and picked at my open wound, searching for the small bit of china that found its way to my finger. When he finally pulled it out, he inserted his hand into his pocket and revealed a peach bandage, wrapping it around my finger.

Once he released my hand, I turned and walked out the door, bare-footed, of course. My feet were soaked with tea but I didn't give it a second thought for I was going to my place. The place where I could have fun and be at peace without being lonely. It was not the place where I can be me, I can be myself anytime. It was not I place where I can be someone else for why would I want such a thing? My place was simply my haven.

The wind blew against my exposed arms, my white dress fluttered in the wind, my hair danced with it along with the blades of grass that were too weak to evade it. I loved the feeling of the earth between my toes and the wind playing with my body.

"Ariella!" I heard my father's voice screaming after me, I didn't look back and started to run. The rush of ignoring my father was a burden to my heart. He was the only family I had, yet I was running from him. I reached the entrance to my haven, behind the trees and over the river. The trunk of a tree laid over the river for me to balance on.